Welcome to Prime Time

9

            Her movements were swift and sure.

            Rolanda took off the black gloves. She threw them next to the body so that they would be found by whoever found Cecelia’s body. She had taken them from Edgar when she had gone to see him. They had his fingerprints all over them.       They had been really easy to get.

            She was worried when she followed him into the bar that he would remember her, that he would recall her face. All he saw however was a pretty woman with big tits. That was all she needed. She let him buy him drinks and, when he was in the bathroom, poured a small amount of powder into his. She wondered if this was the first time a woman had used a date rape drug on him, instead of the other way around.

            Cecelia probably knew about her husband’s many affairs but they had a public image to uphold. She wouldn’t care what he did, so long as he didn’t damage her precious reputation.

            Before the drug took effect in his system, Rolanda suggested they go to a hotel room. It was as he was starting to undress her that he slipped into unconsciousness. She had put on a pair of latex gloves and removed his clothing. She peppered the room with items from her bag: a pair of handcuffs, some gay porn. A large dildo that she had ordered off of the internet under an assumed name, some poppers and a cock ring. She had strewn this all around the bed for the maid to find.

            She took his gloves and tucked them with the latex gloves into her purse. As she was leaving, she put the sign for maid service on the doorknob. A maid would find him shortly and be unable to rouse him. The drugs she had put into his system would work for eight hours or so, keeping him in a deep sleep.

            When he woke, he would be labelled a homosexual and a wife killer. His gloves with his own finger prints would make sure of that. His reputation would be ruined, as would Cecelia’s. And with no alibi for the time of the murder, and his finger prints all over the scene, he would go down for killing his wife.

            Before leaving, Rolanda planted one last seed. She took the letter from her purse and tucked it into Cecelia’s wallet. Rolanda had made sure to make the letter look well read, as if it had been unfolded and folded many times. Rolanda knew the letter well. She had written it to Cecelia several years ago. Rolanda had poured out her heart to Cecelia, had told her how much she loved her, how much they had loved each other.

            Cecelia had returned it to sender unopened. And now it would play its part.

            It was all well and good for Edgar to be framed and for Cecelia to be dead, but Rolanda had to be connected to the murder somehow in order for her plan to work. She had to be shown in a good light. The letter would see to this.

            Rolanda looked at Ceceli’a dead body spread out below her. She supposed there was justice in the world. Sometimes, you just had to make your own.

            “Fucking cunt bitch,” She said.”